Blind Lilies
by flightlesstardis
Summary: After losing everyone she loves, Lydia promised herself she would never get close to someone again. But what happens when she falls for sarcastic, stupid, funny, cute and blind Stiles Stilinski? -OR- The one where Lydia hates bad puns and losing people & Stiles really loves lilies and Lydia.
1. I Hate This, But Not You

**Hi everyone! This is my first Stydia fic. I decided to write it in honor of my friend, DD's, birthday. It's gonna be maybe five or six chapters long? I don't know yet, I just know it's not gonna be extremely long and boring. But this first chapter is dedicated to DD, one of my favorite and best internet friends. (She's joharxlle on Tumblr and perfectlycas on Instagram.) Hopefully you like it, and happy birthday DD!**

**WARNING: This is my very first Stydia fic. If there is any OOCness, I apologize. I tried to figure out there characters and rewatched many Stydia scenes before writing this, so hopefully it's not too bad. Enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Mayday Parade or any of their lyrics, Teen Wolf, Stiles or Lydia.**

* * *

_It's not the first time, but this one really carved it in._

_Tell your new friends that no one knows you like I do._

_It's over, I wanna see you again, I wanna feel it again._

_{Oh Well, Oh Well_—_Mayday Parade}_

* * *

If there was anything Lydia hated, it was hospitals.

She hated the feeling of impending doom and death that drifted through the air as soon as she stepped inside one. She hated the smell of nasty hospital food that wafted through the air. She hated the plain gray walls and the ripped couches in the waiting area. She hated the nurses who had fake, painted smiles plastered across their face. She hated _everything_ about this place. She noticed all these features the first three times she came into this hell hole, and all three of those times, she had lost someone. She couldn't afford to lose anyone else; she wouldn't. She _can't. _God knows what she would do to herself if she did.

So why the hell was she in there for a fourth time?

Well, the answer was quite obvious; she was in there to lose another person. But she didn't quite know it yet. All she knew was that someone from her grade had gotten into a car accident, and her mother was pretty much forcing her to go talk to him, no matter how awkward it would be. (Considering the fact that she hadn't talked to this kid in, what, eight years? Maybe even nine? God knows.) As she entered the elevator, she braced herself. She already felt faint at that horrid smell. How the hell was she supposed to go _talk _to someone too?

There was another girl in the elevator, wearing a purple sweater. "What floor?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Um," Lydia paused, recalling the number the receptionist told her. "Twelfth."

"Cool! That's where I'm going, too." The girl grinned and pushed the button just as the doors started to close.

Purple Sweater tried to initiate a conversation several times by asking her meaningless questions, but each time Lydia ended it with a short, harsh answer. (_Another thing to add to my list of why I hate the hospital, _she thought. _Annoying people._)

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the doors opened and Lydia stepped out, Purple Sweater trailing behind her.

"See ya around." She smiled and walked away. Lydia rolled her eyes and nodded.

She finally took a sharp intake of breath and headed to the room the receptionist/nurse/_whatever _had said the kid was in. She walked painfully slowly, and with each step she regretted coming here more and more. Finally, she reached the room. She gripped the flowers her mom made her bring, and entered the room to see a boy practically tied to the crisp white bed with wires and tubes. His eyes were closed and his face was pale, his freckles standing out. She could see the dark purple circles that were under his eyes. His left leg was in a cast and his right hand had a splint on it. She bit her lip nervously at the sight at her once strong and sturdy classmate being reduced to… _this. _It was terrifying, even though Lydia had seen this happen three times.

After standing there for a few seconds, she decided to speak. "Hello?" She said softly. "Uh… Stiles?"

His eyes fluttered open and looked around blankly. There was something… odd about the way he was looking around. Finally, he squinted in Lydia's general direction. "Who is it?" He asked, his voice cracking and scared.

"Um, it's me, Lydia. Remember? We have third period science together." She took a few careful steps toward him, awkwardly sitting on the chair that was placed next to his bed.

"Oh," He said, his voice suddenly turning hard, still facing where Lydia had been a couple seconds ago, which was odd. "Finally realized I existed, did we?" He laughed humorlessly, his eyes out of focus.

Lydia felt herself turning warm. She swallowed hard. "I'm sorry about that... and what happened, and about, well, everything, really."

It was as if, while she spoke, Stiles finally realized that she had move. He turned his head around towards her and raised a dark eyebrow and snorted. "You never cared about me before. Why now? Is it because I got in a car accident and my mom died in it? Or is it beause it made me blind? If so, I don't need your pity."

_"Or is it because it made me blind?" _Lydia blinked, everything making sense now. That's why his eyes were slightly glazed over and unfocused. It was because he became _blind. _Jesus.

"I brought you flowers." Lydia said stupidly. She bit her tongue. She hated feeling stupid .

Stiles laughed is humorless laugh once more. "Wow," He began sarcastically. "Flowers. Gee, that makes everything better. I'm going to tell all my friends to get blind _just _so they can get flowers from the great Lydia Martin."

She looked down at her feet. What had she been _thinking_? She mentally cursed her mom for making her come to this place. Then, standing up awkwardly, she said, "Well, I'm just gonna... I'm just gonna go now." She placed the flowers on the cold gray metal table next to his bed and turned around quickly, taking fast paced steps towards the door and was about to turn the doorknob when Stiles cleared his throat.

"Wait," He said, his voice soft.

Lydia turned around slowly. "Yeah?" She mentally hit herself. She sounded scared. She _hated _it when she sounded scared. It made her feel weak. Lydia Martin was _not _weak. Lydia Martin had been through death more than once. Lydia was strong. She hated it when other people thought she wasn't.

Stiles's eyes still seemed glazed over as he looked at her. "What type of flowers?"

Lydia smiled nervously. "They're lilies. I remember that you told Mrs. Williams that they were your favorite when we were dissecting them," She said softly.

Stiles seemed surprised. "You remember that?"

She suddenly felt a sense of nostalgia and pain tugging on her sleeve. "Yeah," She said, hoping her voice wasn't as cold as she felt. "I remember everything."

* * *

**Well, hopefully that wasn't too terrible. Again, I apologize for any OOCness. Thanks for reading! Happy birthday, DD. I'll try to update soon. R&R. I need to know if I should keep writing! See y'all soon.**

**-Soumya**


	2. I Fall Asleep To Your Voice

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Wow! 10 reviews already? Thanks guys! You all were so sweet and kind ****J**** I really appreciate it.**

**(OITNB S2E13 SPOILERS BELOW!)**

**Do any of you watch Orange is the New Black? I finished the last episode of season 2, and can I just say, Vee deserves to rot in hell. Thank god she died. Good riddance.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own and bands or songs mentioned in this chapter, Stiles, Lydia, any other Teen Wolf characters, and Teen Wolf in general. **

**ALSO: The book Unbecoming does not actually exist. (If it does, purely a coincidence. I just came up with a book name at the top of my head.)**

**Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

_Arrogant boy, love yourself so no one has to.  
They're better off without you, they're better off without you.  
Arrogant boy, cause a scene like you're supposed to.  
They'll fall asleep without you, you're lucky if your memory remains._

_{Therapy—All Time Low}_

* * *

If you told Lydia a week ago that'd she'd spend the next two months of her life in a hospital hanging out with a geek, she would've laughed in your face.

But a lot can change in a week, of course, because that is _exactly _what she did.

As soon as school would finish, she'd run over to the hospital. Unfortunately, it seemed like Purple Sweater (aka Kira. Lydia had learned her name in one of her pointless ramblings,) had the same idea. They'd always bump into each other in the elevator, and _Jesus Christ _did this girl talk. She tripped over her own words a lot, like her mouth was a shoe and her tongue was an untied shoelace. But, Lydia had to admit she grew on her. Like some black haired leech that would never go away.

After her "chat" with Kira (the conversation was always one sided, considering Lydia tuned her out 75% of the time,) she'd rush to Stiles's room. She'd sit there for hours, holding his hand or reading him a book or listening to Green Day with him, (not really Lydia's choice of music, per say, but it wasn't all bad. She liked a few of their songs,) until her mom called her cell phone and she had to go home. Then, she would eat dinner in her bedroom and ignore her parents yelling from downstairs. She'd finish her homework easily while she ate and ignored the screaming and pounding. (After all, she had an IQ above 170. Homework and schoolwork in general was a breeze.) This was her new life. She didn't mind it. Much.

One day, it was particularly dreary and rainy. Days like these were her favorite. Lydia would go through school normally before rushing to the hospital, ignoring her friends' weird stares. She would talk to Kira on the elevator ride up, bid her goodbyes, and practically skip to Stiles's room. Lydia would sit on the metal chair next to his bed and sip hot chocolate the nurses gave her. She would hold his hand while he slept, rubbing her thumb over the space between his pointer finger and thumb. Sometimes, she'd read a book out loud, like she was doing now, while Stiles laid down on the hospital bed (not like he had any choice, really. All those wires and tubes prevented him from moving much,) and tried to find her voice in the room. When he did, he'd stare at the direction of where her voice was coming from, and he wouldn't be far off. It was the accuracy that scared Lydia, and the intensity of his gaze. It made her wonder if he was actually blind.

Today, Lydia started to read the book "_Unbecoming" _out loud to him. It was interesting enough. She was in the middle of a sentence when Stiles interrupted her.

"Lydia?" He said suddenly, his voice low and rough.

Lydia looked up from the book slowly. "Yeah?"

"Why do you… why do you do all this?" He squinted his eyes and swallowed.

Lydia furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

Stiles cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Uh… do _this." _He made a wide gesture with his hands. "Why do you waste your time on me? Why do you read me books out loud even though it makes your throat hurt? Why do you comfort me when that's what my dad's there for?" With each question, Stiles's voice got higher and higher. Noticing this himself, he coughed and brought his voice back down. He pressed the button on the side of the hospital bed, making the head rest of the bed come upwards so he could be sitting up. He closed his eyes tightly and spoke again, his voice cracking. "And why the hell do you listen to Green Day if you hate their music?"

Lydia, surprised at his random outbreak, was silent for a moment. Then, after what seemed like forever, she spoke confidently.

"Because. I like you. You're one of the few people who don't annoy me."

Stiles smiled slowly. "Yeah?"

She nodded, her heart pounding. "Yeah." She noticed his grin getting bigger and rolled her eyes, even though he couldn't see her. "Oh, come on, let me finish the story. I _knew _I shouldn't have told you that. Now your ego is going to get even _bigger. _Oh, god, I've created a monster."

Stiles started to laugh. She had never heard him laugh before. It was… it was loud, harsh, and rough, like he hadn't done it in a while. (She was assuming he hadn't.) It was grainy and random. It was pretty sad, actually. She loved it.

She laughed, too, then started to read.

That day, Stiles fell asleep to Lydia's voice.

* * *

Stiles didn't cry often. But when he did, it was terrible. It was the fist pounding, screaming, runny nose, red face kind of terrible. He'd yell and shout and curse and twist and scream and Lydia would cry and hold his hand and cry and also, hold his hand. Because there was nothing else she could do but that.

If Lydia was going to be honest, the crying and screaming and kicking and cursing wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the blaming.

Stiles blamed a lot of people, Lydia had noticed. He blamed his dad. (_"Why did he freaking let me drive her? Why did he let us go? Why does he care more about his work than his family? Look where his love for that for his job got us. Still, with me blind he rarely visits, all because of this stupid god forsaken job. One of us blind, one of us dead, he still cares more about his work."_)He blamed his mom. (_"You're my mom. You were supposed to talk me out of running away, not joining me!"_) He blamed the people who had the high beams on. (_Why the hell would you leave the freaking high beams on? Fucking idiots._) But, mostly, he blamed himself.

"This is all my fault," He'd whisper. "All. My. Fucking. Fault. I should've listened to Dad when he told me to stay here, to work it out with him. I shouldn't have been so freaking pissed. I shouldn't have said I noticed the fighting. I shouldn't have gotten into that car. I shouldn't have let my mom get into car with me. I shouldn't have driven away. I should've watched where I was going." He'd stop, then swallow, then quietly, he would say, "I should've died instead of her." Lydia would be crying with him by then. He'd cry and cry and bang his head against his fist and Lydia would try to stop him but he would just cry even louder. It was at times like these Lydia wished she could do something, instead of feeling helpless. So she decided to do just that. She decided to do something.

She decided she would sing Green Day songs.

She started to sing when Stiles started punching the side of his bed. It started out as a whisper in his ear, a simple, "Wake me up when September ends," that grew into a "I walk this empty street, on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams," to "One, 21 guns, lay down your arms, give up the fight," into finally, in a loud and angry voice, "Don't wanna be an American idiot!" Eventually, Stiles would stop crying and start singing with her. His voice would crack, and he would tear up and clench his fists, but he would still sing. They would sing together. They would cry together. They would fall asleep next to each other, together. Like said earlier, Stiles wouldn't cry often. But when he did, he seemed to bring the whole world down with him. They called these terrible days "Green Days." (Pun intended.)

One day, on a Green Day, Lydia and Stiles fell asleep on the small, narrow, hospital bed. Her head was on his shoulder and his arms were wrapped around her. When Lydia woke up, it was 1 o' clock in the morning. She kissed his forehead, wrote a note explaining what happened, and rushed home, driving quickly.

When she arrived, the house was quiet. Nobody had noticed she was gone.

That night, Lydia cried herself to sleep. It was a Green Day, indeed.

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**Hopefully this chapter isn't too terrible. I don't really like it all that much, but oh well. Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed it ****:D**** I'll try to update again in the next week and a half or so.**

**ALSO: If you haven't listened to Green Day, go right now! They're super good.**

**Well, I have to go clean my room now. My friends are coming over soon. :D Bye.**

**-Soumya**


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